Taitenschild

3-2 || All that is Eternal is Might (Part II)

The number of waiting warrior-trainees in the preparation rooms slowly dwindled as the sun headed towards its highest point. With every pair that was sent out to face their trial, Aramir's nerves peaked. His hands jittered, his heart rate rose, and there was an inexplicable sheen of sweat collecting across his skin.

As the number in the waiting pens dropped to single digits, Aramir began to fidget. Seated on his wooden stool, he rested his elbows on his knees and placed his chin on his clasped fists, right leg bouncing uncontrollably as he tried to calm himself down.

'Nervous, Aramir?'

A shadow fell across him and he looked up into the concerned, sun-kissed face of a lithe young woman with cornsilk hair and bright goldenrod eyes.

'Are you saying that you're not, Runa?' he asked, with a poor attempt at a grin.

Runa laughed. 'For myself? No. But for you?' She bent at the waist until they were eye to eye. 'Absolutely,' she whispered and pressed her lips to his. She hesitated as she pulled away. 'My bout is next so I came over to tell you not to die. I'm sure there are other girls who feel the same way, but I wanted to tell you myself that I'd hate for that night during the last Feast to be our last.'

Aramir raised an eyebrow, a proper smile spreading on his lips at her words. 'I got an earful for coming home so late after that, you know.'

Runa smirked and flashed him a wink. 'Well, that's your own fault, now, isn't it? You know what your father is like.' She cupped his cheek with her palm and kissed him again. 'Kill that Fal'mor, Aramir.'

'Yes, ma'am. Good luck with your bout.'

She nodded, apparently satisfied, straightened up and walked away. Aramir watched as she stopped by the weapons rack and selected a javelin and small shield, feeling strangely calmer than before. Even his fidgeting had stopped. He chuckled and shook his head. Runa had always known how to calm him down, even when they were children.

Head no longer wrought with paranoia and fear, he remembered the words that his father made Eli repeat every day before their meditation session: 'A mind that is not clear is prone to panic in battle.'

More like prone to panic before, he thought.

Meditation had never been mandatory for Aramir like it had been for Eli, but in this moment, he could appreciate why his father made the girl practise it. Nerves meant doubt. Doubt meant hesitation – and when standing in face of a Fal'mor, hesitation surely meant death.

The golden portcullis opened and he watched as Runa disappeared into the sunlight, the distant roar of the cheering crowd resounding throughout the room in her wake. Only six other warrior-trainees remained.

Placing his hands on his knees, Aramir began to meditate.

He'd made a promise to Eliah, to his father, and now to Runa. It was one he was determined to keep. He would emerge from the Rite alive.

─ ☼ ─

The final two warrior-trainees finished their Trial and exited the pit, the winner dragging his opponent's unconscious body through the hot bloodied sand. The tension in the arena seemed to increase tenfold – or perhaps it was just the effect of the haze being generated by the midday sun.

The bowl-shaped arena captured the heat like a hearth. The entire Clan was hot, sweaty, and – after watching a score of warrior-trainees engage in deathless sparring matches – thirsty for blood.

Eliah shifted restlessly. Seras, the Sun God, may have been their creator, but all his light seemed to be doing was add to the already oppressive atmosphere. If this was how uncomfortable she felt up in the spectator rings, she could only imagine how overwhelming the aura would be down in the pit.